


Nine to Five

by redrawnborders



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrawnborders/pseuds/redrawnborders
Summary: Frankie, recently divorced, starts her first job at an office. Grace has begrudgingly been instructed by her slimy boss Nick to show her the ropes.





	Nine to Five

**Author's Note:**

> It's exactly what you think it is: a 1980s office AU based on the movie of the same title. I've really been obsessed with Grace and Frankie lately, after watching the movie it was just too perfect not to. Romance? Tick! Just give it some time...   
> If anyone wants to gush about these two, my tumblr is mrsrobichek ...   
> Let me know your Thoughts ! x

            Grace Hanson stood impatiently in her boss' office, looking over what was possibly the scarcest resume she'd ever set eyes upon. What _was_ listed under skills and reference was of little consequence: "invigorating presence exuding a rejuvenating aura from considerable radius", for one thing. Had she consulted a damn thesaurus? Above all, what did that even mean? Having worked at the company longer than virtually all staff on the floor - including her own damn boss - she did not gladly entertain the idea of training someone _else_ when she already had more, plenty more, than enough to do; let alone someone so inexperienced and frankly, nonsensical. How this Frankie Bergstein managed to land herself a job here, Grace thought, her lip twitching at the sight of a smiley-face finalizing the signature at the bottom of the page, was beyond her. "Nick, she has never worked in her _life_ before!"

Turning his gaze from his steepled fingers to Grace, Nick flashed that leering smile that always managed to make her skin crawl. "Well," he started with that self-satisfied tone. Grace was beginning to think it was his default canter of speech with anyone but the other men in the office whom he actually deemed worthy of esteem. "I thought you'd be sympathetic."

"I am sympathetic, Nick. But, please, why do _I_  have to train her?" She let her gaze wander as she spoke; suspecting that if she had to maintain eye contact, the frustration which had been building since Nick was chosen for a promotion over her - despite her evidently superior performance - would boil over and she would start screaming. And this was certainly not the place. She envisioned the throw cushion back home she would release her pent up anger into later. That is, after an extremely dry martini or two. Releasing an inaudible huff, she tried her luck. "Let her work in someone else's section." God knew they were all busy around the clock, the odds were against her and she knew it. But she had to try. Sometimes being the most competent worker on the floor had its downfalls, along with its egregious lack of perks to begin with. Ever since entering the work force after her husband left her, she'd faced the seemingly insurmountable burden and downright _annoyance_ of being a woman in what people called _a man's world._ But Grace Hanson knew better than to let anyone under her skin, let alone her skeeving superior.

"She's very willing," Nick's brows rose as he spoke, and Grace suspected that he had intended for it to be what might be considered a cleverly boyish double entendre. She didn't allow her expression to betray any reaction she may have felt, regardless of her immediate impulse to retch or roll her eyes. Her ability to remain perfectly composed in these exchanges was one of the few self-affirming satisfactions the job had to offer. To deprive the man - with what should have rightfully been _her_ promotion -  looking down on her the satisfaction of getting a rise from belittling her, calling her "honey", or asking for another damn cup of coffee. She would swear sometimes he did it just to infuriate her. To her own irritation, sometimes it really did. Nick continued more neutrally, snapping out of her reverie. "She needs the job. She's recently divorced."

That was something Grace could understand, she herself having been divorced. Not that she would tell anyone that. To those she worked with, her husband was dead. Divorce was not uncommon these days, but having to specify that he had divorced her to be with another man he'd been having an affair with for the better part of their marriage - _that_ was just too much to explain time and time again to people who had no business prying into her personal life in the first place. At the back of her mind she knew it was cruel, but she couldn't help feel he may as well have died and save her the humiliating circumstances of their divorce. Now they only saw one another when he dropped off Brianna and Mallory to the beach house they once shared for Grace's week with the girls. He seemed so much happier now than he had ever been with her, despite the necessary illicitness of his new relationship. This was the eighties after all. Her trouble hadn't been that he left her for another man so much that all the time that had passed between them together, none of it was _real_. She knew their marriage had been strained, but wasn't that marriage? Wasn't that what normal married couples went through? Isn't that just what people _did_? Now all those "business trips" he had to take so often made so much more sense, and it made her sick. When she was alone in their house single-handedly looking after their girls she didn't just feel isolated, she felt scared. Well, a vague sense of unease. Too many _what if..?_ scenarios would flash through her mind as she'd nurse a martini - strictly to calm her nerves. Really. The gun that Robert had given her for protection was all she'd had for any sense of security. But things for different for her now, she was stronger. With the curve ball Robert had thrown her, she'd had to be. Now she knocked it out of the park at her job, or as much as she could under the thumb of her insufferable boss.

"Yeah, well, I'm a widow with two kids," she said flatly. But she had already mentally conceded to the situation, there wasn't much she could do about it. Nick's gaze shifted from her to the elevators through the glass partition of his office. Grace followed his line of vision in time to catch the horrific sight of a woman being caught awkwardly between the closing doors of the elevator. Quickly recomposing herself and flashing a nervous smile to those who had seen the spectacle, she looked around before finally setting a course and making her way to... Nick's office? Oh no.

"Is that her?" Grace hadn't quite managed to keep the incredulity from her voice as she turned briskly from him back towards her. Her dread only grew worse as her soon-to-be pupil waved towards them enthusiastically, beaming in such a way that Grace imagined she herself would have to have taken at least three Xanax to feel so pleased.

This was going to be a nightmare.


End file.
